The Uzumaki mansion stood against the night like a fortress of glass and stone, its walls humming faintly with the echo of a storm that hadn't yet broken. The fountain outside still ran, the steady rush of water trying to disguise the tension building within.
It was a few minutes past ten when the black convoy rolled into the drive. The headlights carved white arcs across the mansion gates before dying into silence.
Mr. Gale Uzumaki stepped out first — tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a long dark coat that framed his presence like a verdict. His expression was unreadable, coldly measured — the kind of calm that could unmake anyone with a single glance.
Charles was already at the door, bowing slightly.
"Welcome back, sir. The house has been expecting you."
Gale's eyes shifted toward him, sharp and still. "Has it?"
He handed his gloves to the butler without looking. "Where's Levi?"
"In the study, sir. He returned not long ago."
Gale gave a single nod and entered. The faint scent of rain followed him through the hall like a shadow that knew its place. The chandelier light struck the silver in his hair, turning it to tempered steel.
Nana appeared from the far corridor, wringing her hands nervously.
"Sir—welcome home."
Gale's voice was low, deliberate. "Where is she?"
Nana froze. "She—"
"Scarlett." His gaze found her, and the single word was enough to drain her voice. "Where is she?"
The housekeeper stammered, "She left, sir. Just before ten. Said she needed some air."
Gale's eyes narrowed a fraction. "And you allowed that?"
Nana swallowed. "She said she'd be back before midnight, sir. I thought—"
"You thought?" His tone never rose, but it scraped against her nerves like fine glass.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't want to—"
"Enough," Levi's voice cut through, calm but cold.
He was standing by the stairs — black shirt, sleeves rolled, tie undone. A mirror image of his father's restraint, but missing the discipline behind it.
Gale turned toward him slowly. "You let her leave?"
Levi's jaw flexed. "I didn't let her do anything. She does as she pleases."
Mia, who had been lingering behind the staircase, finally stepped forward. "Father, please. She wasn't feeling well. Maybe she just needed space."
Before Gale could respond, a softer voice came from the hallway.
"She needed space, and you gave it to her in the middle of a war?"
Mary stood there — elegant even in her night robe, the pearls at her neck glinting like tears turned to armor. Her expression was calm, but her eyes carried disappointment deep enough to wound.
Gale looked at her briefly, then back to Levi.
Levi's gaze flickered toward his mother, but he said nothing.
Mary crossed the room slowly, the hem of her robe whispering against the marble. "You knew she wasn't herself, Levi. You could see it. And yet, you let her go into the dark alone?"
Levi's tone was clipped, restrained. "She wasn't my responsibility."
Mary stopped before him, her voice trembling but firm. "That girl has eaten at this table. Slept under this roof. That makes her family — at least for now. And we don't abandon family, Levi. Not ever."
The silence that followed was heavy — not loud, but suffocating.
Gale moved past them, his footsteps measured, each one echoing with command.
"When one piece leaves the board," he murmured, more to himself than to them, "the enemy always moves first."
"Father," Levi said quietly, following. "You think this has something to do with the letter?"
Gale paused mid-step. The chandelier's reflection caught his eyes — steel and gold, unflinching.
"I don't think," he said, turning slightly. "I calculate. And my conclusion is yes."
He faced them all — Levi, Mary, Mia, and Nana trembling by the wall. "The Shikamaru won't strike openly. Not yet. They'll test our defenses. Probe for a weakness."
Mia frowned. "You mean Scarlett?"
For a moment, something softened behind Gale's eyes — pity, perhaps. Or warning. "If they've marked her," he said, voice like a blade sheathed in calm, "then the game has already begun."
Mary's lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. "Then she's in danger…"
Gale nodded once. "We all are."
Levi's face darkened. He didn't speak, but the shift in his eyes was clear — rage rising like smoke under control.
Outside, thunder rolled faintly in the distance.
The night had officially turned.
---
The mansion was a cathedral of quiet that night. The last echoes of the convoy's engines had faded into the distance, leaving only the whisper of wind brushing through the tall pines that surrounded the Uzumaki estate.
Levi walked through the corridor, his footsteps steady but heavy. The walls glowed faintly with golden light from the sconces, and portraits of generations before him stared down in silent judgment.
He reached his room and pushed the door open. The air was still, the faint hum of the estate's security system the only sound. His room was vast — dark wood, steel accents, and walls of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling. Beyond them, the view opened wide to the city far below — a sea of tiny lights flickering against the darkness.
From this height, everything looked small. Fragile.
It was why the Uzumakis built here — high above the chaos, with a clear view of whatever might come for them.
Levi loosened his tie and walked toward the glass. His reflection stared back at him — tired, cold, and unreadable. Somewhere in that reflection, he could almost see her.
Scarlett.
He clenched his jaw. "Damn it."
He hated the way her name stirred something in him — something sharp and unfamiliar. It was easier when things were simple, when loyalty and bloodlines were the only rules that mattered.
But tonight, those rules felt blurred.
He shut his eyes for a moment, gripping the edge of the table beside him.
Why does she get under my skin like this?
Outside, the wind shifted, carrying the faint hum of the estate's lights. Somewhere down the hall, the clocks struck midnight.
And Levi Uzumaki, heir to one of the most feared names in the city, stood alone in his silence — trapped between duty and a feeling he didn't want to understand.